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Her Forgotten Lover's Heir
Annie West
She’s carrying the billionaire’s child…But he seems like a stranger!Brooding Pietro Agosti was stunned when his sizzling fling with vibrant teacher Molly Armstrong resulted in her pregnancy. Finally, the merciless Italian would be able to continue his legacy—but then an accident left Molly with no memory of him! Pietro must help Molly remember the fierce attraction that drove them together, and the fact that the baby she’s carrying is the Agosti heir…Experience the emotion in this dramatic amnesia romance!
She’s carrying the billionaire’s child...
But he seems like a stranger!
Brooding Pietro Agosti was stunned when his sizzling fling with vibrant teacher Molly Armstrong resulted in her pregnancy. Finally, the merciless Italian would be able to continue his legacy—but then an accident left Molly with no memory of him! Pietro must help Molly remember the fierce attraction that drove them together, and the fact that the baby she’s carrying is the Agosti heir...
Experience the emotion in this dramatic amnesia romance!
Growing up near the beach, ANNIE WEST spent lots of time observing tall, burnished lifeguards—early research! Now she spends her days fantasising about gorgeous men and their love lives. Annie has been a reader all her life. She also loves travel, long walks, good company and great food. You can contact her at annie@annie-west.com (http://www.annie@annie-west.com) or via PO Box 1041, Warners Bay, NSW 2282, Australia.
Also by Annie West (#u3cb81c97-661f-5e2b-ba3e-f51fa9d7ef9d)
Seducing His Enemy’s Daughter
A Vow to Secure His Legacy
The Flaw in Raffaele’s Revenge
The Desert King’s Secret Heir
The Desert King’s Captive Bride
Contracted for the Petrakis Heir
Inherited for the Royal Bed
The Princess Seductions miniseries
His Majesty’s Temporary Bride
The Greek’s Forbidden Princess
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Her Forgotten Lover’s Heir
Annie West
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07274-8
HER FORGOTTEN LOVER’S HEIR
© 2018 Annie West
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This story is for all those readers who tingle with
anticipation at the thought of an amnesia story.
Thank you for your enthusiasm for my earlier book,
Forgotten Mistress, Secret Love-Child. Your feedback is what prompted this new story. I hope you enjoy it!
Contents
Cover (#ub92de0e8-9a7f-597b-bab2-3acd2c3aedf6)
Back Cover Text (#ud108a866-9123-5ed2-8148-c82d58f955a7)
About the Author (#ua842305f-9636-5f6b-b673-0fddb1571956)
Booklist (#ue011f6da-d17c-5678-aa79-fc9fb35a4965)
Title Page (#ua6a29979-7ff6-5db7-b5f1-917cb179a60d)
Copyright (#u08147634-80cc-505f-8484-ffef6fd88af5)
Dedication (#u35af935a-dc1b-5da1-89a8-f10ed446fe40)
CHAPTER ONE (#u38848412-c014-5c76-8848-db8b2b9adf09)
CHAPTER TWO (#u3c10de7d-067e-54f1-af18-dd7a08c1fe19)
CHAPTER THREE (#ue02754ba-24c5-5898-b8ff-a7082798fb0b)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ue2bf335f-4208-5918-9178-db2dafcc70ab)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u3cb81c97-661f-5e2b-ba3e-f51fa9d7ef9d)
SHE WOKE TO a sense of disorientation.
Blinking, she took in the dimly lit room. The visitor’s chair, bedside table and small window. Now she knew where she was. Rome. The hospital they’d brought her to after she’d been knocked down on the street.
Yet, instead of feeling calmer, her pulse quickened. The sense of disorientation didn’t ease. How could it when everything beyond this room was a blank?
Her name.
Her nationality.
What she was doing in Rome.
She didn’t recall anything.
Impulsively, she reached out to the bedside table, fingers running over the small comb and vanilla lip-balm that were the only possessions she could call her own. Her clothes had been so torn and bloodied they were unwearable and whatever bag or wallet she’d carried was missing.
She shut her eyes, forcing her breathing to slow. Forcing down the fear at not knowing anything.
After all, she did know some things.
She wasn’t Italian. She spoke English, with only a smattering of tourist Italian.
She was in her twenties. Pale-skinned with regular, if ordinary, features. She had grey-blue eyes and tawny hair that looked limp after the blood had been washed out.
And she was pregnant.
Her breath hissed in as she struggled with fear at the thought of being pregnant, nameless and alone.
The amnesia would pass. The doctors were hopeful. Well, most of them were hopeful. She was determined to cling to that. The alternative was too horrible to contemplate. She’d feel better in daylight when the medical staff bustled around the ward. Even the continual barrage of tests would be a welcome change from lying here, utterly alone and...
Something tugged at her senses. The hairs on her nape rose and her skin tickled with the awareness someone was watching her.
Slowly, since quick movement made her head ache, she turned towards the door.
She blinked, then blinked again. Wasn’t it enough that her memory was shot? Had she begun hallucinating too?
In the shadowed doorway stood a man who surely didn’t belong here. Tall, broad-shouldered and lean enough to wear his dark suit to elegant perfection, he looked like a model for designer menswear. That square jaw, the hint of a groove low in each cheek and those soaring cheekbones were all ultra-masculine and stunningly attractive.
A fillip of emotion stirred in her belly. Surprise, obviously. And attraction. As a distraction from self-pity he was perfect—the epitome of the ‘tall, dark and handsome’ cliché.
Except, as he stepped into the room, she discovered he wasn’t anything so simple as a pretty face.
There was an underlying toughness about him that made her skin prickle. He was the sort of guy who made designer stubble sexy instead of effete. His nose was strong rather than suave and his eyes hinted at shrewd, calculating intelligence. His height made him dominate the room and the effect was magnified when he stopped by her bed.
She tilted her head up, heart pounding.
‘Who are you?’ It seemed vital she sound calm, though everything inside her quickened.
Maybe he was some fancy consultant. That might explain his lack of bedside manner. No cheery smile, no platitudes about time being a great healer. No stethoscope. She couldn’t picture anything so mundane draped over that superbly fitted suit.
His eyes bored into hers and she saw now why they looked so unusual. They were brown flecked with gold and glowed with an inner fire, their colour unexpected given his olive skin and dark hair.
His silent scrutiny made her uncomfortable. ‘I said—’
‘You don’t remember me?’ His voice was honey and whisky, velvet and steel, and it would have made her hang on his every word even if he’d recited from a phone book. But when he implied...
She scrambled to sit up then winced as the movement made her head pound.
‘Are you all right? Should I call someone?’
Not a doctor, then.
‘Should I remember you? Have we met?’
Something she couldn’t identify flared in those golden eyes.
‘Do you know me?’ She leaned towards him, silently pleading for him to say he did.
Someone somewhere held the key to her identity.
‘I—’
There was a bustle in the doorway and one of the doctors entered. The chubby one with the kind eyes who’d reassured her when the fear she’d never regain her memory had grown close to terror. He burst into excited Italian, questioning the man at the bedside. The stranger responded, those grooves in his cheeks more pronounced, as if carved by concern. Back and forth they talked, the doctor voluble, the stranger answering with terse responses.
As if she weren’t there!
